Born into a field of flowers, to slowly wilt away

Sheltered by wings, delicately smothered by blindness

Released among the wolves, thus molded by resistance

Ridden by the clawed hoofs of tyrants



The fruit of other worlds, but grown by loneliness

Concealing a black soul, and but sensing the beyond

Uniquely grown from within

Shimmered by a darker night, but left to solitude



How can one disclose a darker night,

if one but rests?

Or evidence the suffering,

by wordly gauge?

Or comprehend the long-drawn agony

When pain and evil never trod one down



Like a warring sun, from a better kingdom

Beautiful, free, of different steel!

Dearly prized, and equally broken

He should have gone free of you!



An emotional tumour, gnaws from inside

Of heartless, spineless treason

The darkest night now weaves its loom

Soon to release its spawn